on benson street/ poem by Cori Spillane

Who gave us this grand table that would never see a 


your eyes upon its surface marked by pens that scratched too 


inside a growing hunger takes its form with sharpened 


that grind away through thoughts but only ever get to 


away at you forever


Cori Spillane has lived all around the Hudson Valley, starting out in New Rochelle and getting as far north as Albany before planting roots in Red Hook with her husband and their beloved pets. She studies English and Creative Writing at SUNY New Paltz and has been rhyming ever since her parents introduced her to the concept on a car ride. They came to regret their fun little game of “who can make the most rhymes” forty minutes later when they realized it would never, ever end, but they’ve since come around and she now counts them as some of her fondest supporters. Her flashes of inspiration come from her deep love of life, and exclusively at inconvenient times like while driving on the thruway or during serious conversations. 

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